


45 Degrees

by Plutorabbit



Category: K-pop, SHINee
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 00:26:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7337155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plutorabbit/pseuds/Plutorabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I can’t believe you’re not here to witness this, Taem.”</p><p> </p><p>  <i>It's here.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	45 Degrees

“I didn’t miss the last train this time.” he mumbled to himself before letting out a breathless chuckle.

His footsteps were light, just like his head, and his heart, and everything that he felt against his skin, from top to toe.

He wasn’t sure what he had taken, but he hadn't felt this good ever since that summer the boys had him take the train to Seoul with them for their first concert.

His toes reached the edge of the platform, his canvas sneakers passing over just enough for him to see the shades of dirt on his shoes match those on the tracks. Once again, he let himself get excited by the little things he had forgotten for a long time.

He loosely swung his arm forward, his fingers slipping off the plastic backrest of his favorite chair. A series of hollow clanking echoed through the tunnel as it fell onto the tracks. He stood in his place, still intrigued by the static sensation that lingered on his fingertips.

“I can’t believe you’re not here to witness this, Taem.” he chuckled, the corner of his lips curving up to form a smirk. The same smirk that found its way to his child-like face whenever the five of them came up with a new adventure. He lowered himself, until his right hand touched the cold marble floor. Supporting his weight with that arm, he let himself fall over the edge, landing on his feet with the shuffling sound of gravel bits interrupting the deafening silence of the station.

He straightened the chair, settling it steadily on the uneven ground in which the metal tracks rested, and took a seat.

“This isn’t it…” he queried, cocking his head as he took a step back to take a better look at the setting he had created. He reached out to turn the chair to face a 45 degree angle from the tunnel and plopped himself down again.

“That’s better.” he sighed in satisfaction.

And then it came, the faint rumbling from the distance. He froze and held his breath, his heart beating faster as he tried to feel the vibrations grow stronger at a torturously slow pace.

“It’s coming, guys.” he announced for no one to hear, with a wide grin on his face as he readied himself. He looked ahead, exactly 45 degrees from the tracks, as he had positioned his chair to face. The view from his seat consisted of the black mass which was the end of the tunnel in which the howling now came from, the empty row of 5 teal colored seats, and most importantly, the elevator.

Flashbacks of the countless rendezvous replayed themselves in place of the empty station. He still felt the thrill in seeing the numbers on the lift light up, and meeting eyes with the four faces that had inked themselves onto all of his memories.

An empty smile now rested on his lips, his eyes turned solemn as he leaned back in his chair. The gravel beneath his feat was shaking, clanking themselves against the steel rails he sat between. He could feel the shifting of his chair, as the dirt beneath his feet shuddered.

 

**It’s here.**

 

The blinding headlights lit the end of the tunnel, and eventually shone directly on him like spotlight, forcing his eyes shut. He tightened his grip on the side of his chair, struggling to stay in his seat as the ground shook violently. The heat from the rays of lights burned his skin, much like his first time on stage.

“This is it, guys!” he yelled with everything he had left in him. Even so, his voice was swallowed by the deafening howling of the train, the rattling of tracks, the pounding in his head and the nostalgic sounds of laughter that danced dimly in his mind.

 

He opened his eyes for one last time.

And in that instant, at 45 degrees from the train tracks, the elevator lights lit up, and the doors opened.

He smiled.


End file.
